


Then and now aren’t much different

by Ificouldbeanything123



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Lams is historical cause I say so, M/M, Reincarnation, i really made a.hams childhood fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:55:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26332255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ificouldbeanything123/pseuds/Ificouldbeanything123
Summary: He was sure they were all gone, it was easier to think that than leave himself open for disappointment. Besides, he knew better than to open himself up.(
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens
Comments: 8
Kudos: 52





	Then and now aren’t much different

**Author's Note:**

> I should definitely be working on nothing like summer in the city, but I’m struggling with the most recent chapter, so have this instead.

On November 13 1998, Alejandro Hernandez was born to one Mira Hernandez in Mira’s small apartment. There was no one else around to help with the birth and no one to ensure Alejandro’s safety. He had been the result of a poor relationship broken off many months prior and Mira had shut everyone else out of her life during the later stages of her pregnancy. So when Alejandro came into the world, his crying was the loudest sound of the apartment, his mother's labored breathing and the small town noises through the thin walls the only other things that were audible. Thankfully he was born fairly healthy, no complications, which was probably the first and last time Alejandro had had good luck for a long while. 

Alejandro couldn’t be sure, but he always felt that it wasn’t the first time that she held him that she decided she hated him. Nor the second or third. But sometime over the years, with his loudness and her drinking, as well as the money problems from which they suffered, and everything else that the world decided to throw at their unbalanced barely cohesive family, Mira had come to hate Alejandro. Perhaps for what he represented in her steadily declining funds, or perhaps a misplaced blame of personal mistakes. Whatever the reason, Alejandro could only say that his earliest memory of his mother was her shouting obscenities at him. Crying with a glass of rum in her hand. 

Perhaps the next day she had tearfully apologized, rubbing his back as he sobbed into her shoulder, unsure how to feel other than overwhelmed as a three year old. But whether her apology had meant anything or not, it happened again and again and again, until her apologies stopped and her drinking increased. They were evicted from their small home, moving into a small place above a butcher shop with cheap rent and cheaper furniture, the loveseat cracking the first time Mira sat down on it. It only escalated, Mira’s drunken bouts of screeching as well as her cutting sober words. He quickly learned it was easier to be quiet.  
~•~  
When he was able to start school - a small catholic school that was too underfunded for how many kids attended and how stressed teachers were - he found a place where he didn’t have his mother’s disinterested presence within arms reach. Soon - even with how tough learning was with the teachers incompetence - he was looking forward to each day, dreading the weekend. He didn’t quite have a reason, there were no friends at school, and the teachers didn’t care, and at the time he felt sure that his mother loved him, even with her scathing words. 

Books also became a refuge as soon as he was able to read. Many books that he could take from the school were in different languages, from Spanish to French to English. So Alejandro taught himself as best he could and delved into worlds other than his own.

(Years later, when telling his friends these things, they told him that teaching oneself new languages at the age of six so as to escape from reality was not exactly the norm.)  
~•~  
All throughout his time in school, he heard whispers of reincarnates, people reborn from another time. He heard and read stories about people with memories of the civil war, or from the Middle Ages, speaking in tongues long dead. It intrigued him in a way nothing had before, resonating with him in a way he couldn’t explain. Every once in a while, one of his peers would come to school with news of them being a reincarnate, or a friend or loved one. The stories always spread like wildfire, with five and six year olds talking excitedly about it for many minutes. Alejandro specifically remembered watching the small television in the classroom - one of two in the whole school-, with crooked wires, exclaiming that the first president of the united had been reincarnated.   
~•~  
Alejandro remembers the day his mother first hit him with vivid clarity, burning his eyelids any time he thinks of himself before the age of twenty. It had been his seventh birthday. Birthdays were something his mother never truly celebrated, too busy drinking or working, and Alejandro too afraid to bother her. But that year Alejandro had made some friends, some young girls who seemed to eager to tell him play games and tell him of birthdays. He remembers coming home, for some reason hoping for something different, some sort of affection from his mother. All he found instead was Mira on the ground, a large bottle of tequila in front of her, and a non prescription bottle of something laying spilled beside it. Papers laying all over the small counter in their decrepit kitchen, red letters spattering many of them. That should have been some sort of indication for what was to come. Some warning that should have sent Alejandro running. It didn’t. He was so oblivious, walking up to her, speaking eagerly about young Esmeralda and Raquel. 

Mira had been quiet, hands twitching, as Alejandro spoke quietly beside her (never loudly). Without warning his mother's head snapped up, eyes wild. At the motion Alejandro quickly backed up, unsure what was happening but suddenly absolutely terrified. Mira got up off her knees, facing and grabbing Alejandro with too much speed for his small legs to escape. The crack of skin hitting skin was hard and sharp, the noise at first more shocking than the pain itself. 

Alejandro had already had tears in his eyes before that moment, but when his mother let go of him, he was suddenly sobbing. His chest heaving and his breathing off. He felt like he was suddenly dying, that everything was crashing down and he was falling with it. He scampered to the bathroom, barely cognizant but feeling as though his stomach was about to empty its contents. He lost awareness of his surroundings after that, lost feeling and time as his body tried to both regain control as well as shut down. 

When he finally came to, he found himself on the bathroom floor, cold tile pressed against his back and his mother nowhere to be seen. 

After that he tried to be at school or with his new friends as much as possible. Fear crawling through him at any thought of returning home. He found more books, fell deeper into escapism, tried to forget about his home life. It’s not as though he hadn’t been afraid before, but suddenly the fear was so much worse. The attack he had suffered after his mother had hit him seemed to keep coming back with more frequently, no explanation for what it could be in any of the books he could find. 

As much as he avoided the apartment he called home, he had to go back eventually. He had no one else to stay with. The screening continued as usual, but Alejandro was almost used to it by that point. Though the fear was renewed whenever Mira moved sharply, her hands coming anywhere near him causing him to flinch. He managed to get away unscathed (physically) and that was all that mattered to the seven year old in that moment. 

It took her six months to hit him again. 

She didn’t hold back much after that.   
~•~  
When he was ten he got sick. His mother had disappeared a few days prior and Alejandro wasn't close enough to any other adult to even begin to speak about his mother. So when she left with no warning, he was stuck with little food and no money. He quickly ran out of food, even after trying to ration it, as Mira spent little money on anything other than alcohol these days as well as pills every once in a while, so Alejandro often went hungry at night even with his mother in the house. However it had been cold outside and there hasn’t been electricity in their apartment for almost a year and it feels like right after his mother leaves is Alejandro sitting on his old mattress (no bed frame, not after his mother threw him into it and broke it, along with his wrist) shivering, thee feeling of fading bruises pressing against the wall he was leaning against. 

He doesn’t skip school the first day, it feels like a common cold. 

He missed the next three days in the burning grips of a fever of some sort, shoving from cold but to hot for blankets. He did nothing but lay and drift, sometimes opening his eyes only to see places he had never visited and people long dead. They meant nothing to him in the throws of the sickness, just shapes in the twisting of his brain and the burning of his skin. Air blowing onto him from the window without glass above him, chilling him too much and not enough. 

On the fourth day, he sat up from his bed, aching and still too warm from the fever, and he screamed. Screamed because he remembered a life as Alexander Hamilton. Screamed because he was so overwhelmed with memories and feelings of a time long gone and he was only a boy. Only a boy with too much on his plate and too little help. But he was also a man, a man who had walked to his own grave with his head held high. Who had seen so much and done so much and had already lived and it was splitting his head in two. He sobbed for what was lost and who he had been and who he was. When he finally stopped screaming and sobbing, physically drained from the fever and emotionally drained from gaining a lifetime of memories in a night, he later back down, the mattress squeaking, and the two sides of his head fighting to merge and meet and control, two completely different people clashing. 

He spent the next two days trying to recover, his body week and his mind split as Alexander and Alejandro split him mind, Alexander being loud and brash and telling him to take control of his life while Alejandro just wished to curl into the covers and cry. He was too old and too young, to inexperienced and too experienced. Lacking a mother in both lifetimes, though this time certainly more metaphorically. He had to guidance and no support and as much as Alexander wished to pull him into action, to find someone and get some food for his weakened body, Alejandro just wished to lay there and while Alexander was loud, Alejandro was more enticing. He just wished to process and his mind felt like minced meat. Alexander, at least, managed to convince him (who is him? Is he Alejandro or Alexander? Neither? Both?) to get some more to drink, because dying of dehydration didn’t sound ideal. 

At some point while he felt more like Alexander, he stood in front of the cracked bathroom mirror examining his reflection. It’s was odd to note the difference in his skin tone, now much darker than the near white he had often appeared to be in the 1700’s, and while his hair was still curly, it appeared to be more afro curly, rather than the unruly red frizz he had sported before. This trait was not something Mira had, as her hair was a sleek dark brown, which meant his hair was probably inherited from whoever his father was. Freckles still adorned his face, perhaps the one similarity in a host of differences. Even his nose was of average size, which was incredibly disconcerting as he studied his face more closely.   
~•~  
His mother got home almost two weeks after she left, bedraggled and intoxicated, though whether from alcohol or something else was unclear. Alex (he has decided on Alex, a middle ground from Alejandro and Alexander) was still practically bedridden, barely recovering and hungry, still trying to sort through memories and feelings from a bygone life, as well as make sense of a world that had changed so much over the past two hundred years. Thankfully Mira seemed to be both too intoxicated to be aware of Alex, or maybe she was ignoring him. She also brought some food, just a little, a half empty box of crackers, but it was enough to satisfy his aching stomach. Just a bit.   
~•~  
He managed to get back to school the next day, stumbling down the cracked sidewalk, his head spinning but desperate to get away from his home and mother, as well as hoping for something to eat. Maybe Esmeralda and Raquel could give him something. 

He spent the day drifting. Stuck halfway between the past and present, and his body still recovering. He couldn’t focus on whatever the teacher was rambling about, something about times tables or mathematics. Something Alexander had taught himself mathematics 200 years ago. Missing the information wouldn’t matter. He did manage to mooch some food from Raquel, which improved his physical well being, at least a bit.   
~•~  
He walked home quietly, dread building for something he felt was coming, unclear about what it was, but sure it was going to happen some the less. 

He walked up the stairs behind the butcher shop, the smell of rotting carcasses harsh in the back ally. However when he reached his door, the smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol was even stronger, wafting out of the cracked window beside the door. His body tensed, the urge to run far far away, overwhelming half of him, fear of his mother clouding his mind. The other half of him, the Alexander half, wanted to march into the house and start screaming at this woman who had called herself his mother. Shout at her for all of the neglect and abuse over the years. Grief and anger clouded that portion of his mind, still overwhelmed at the slew of memories that came up, often randomly. 

In the end he did neither, sneaking into the house as quiet as he could, holding his breath as he tried to cross the apartment to reach his room. 

He didn’t make it far, only just past the side table covered in cracked picture frames, before a hand tugged on the colar of his too big shirt (found in his school lost and found). He was yanked away from his room, dragged to the kitchen by his mother, smelling strongly of tequila and cigarette smoke. It shot a bolt of panic through him, his mind screaming as his body went limp in Mira’s grasp. 

She began screaming at him, ranting and raving about how much he cost, his uselessness and how he didn’t deserve any of what he got. All things he had heard before, all things he could let his mind drift from, away from the situation. His head was still spouting warning bells, ringing in his ears. However they were dimmer as he left himself drift away, only vaguely aware of what was happening with his body. 

He was brought back to reality sharply his a slap that made his head snap sideways, throwing his weak body to the floor. 

Now, Mira Hernandez was not a tall woman, standing at maybe 5,4, but she towered over Alex’s 4,0, she was also a considerable amount stronger, with Alex’s lack of food as well as his recent sickness. With the crazed anger in her eyes, Alejandro was always left terrified, shaking as she approached. However, now Alex’s mind was calm, like the incoming tide had swept away all of his thoughts, leaving nothing but memories from his past, and an overwhelming grief and anger, not necessarily directed at just Mira, but certainly being aimed at her in that moment. 

He stood up shakily, setting his shoulders and straightening his spine. He summoned the years of politics and his experience in the war, looked his mother in the eye, and told her to leave him be. 

It was certainly not his smartest choice, not his most well thought out. But for some reason, perhaps how Alex looked, perhaps her inebriated state, Mira took a stumbling step back. 

Not taking a chance to let her change her mind, Alex rushed to his room, the calm being overtaken by panic once more. He had enough wherewithal to put the small deadbolt in place (something he had found while exploring people recycling bins with Raquel and Esmeralda) before succumbing to one of his attacks. Overwhelmed by past and present and leading to a loss of consciousness due to lack of air intake.   
~•~  
After that encounter, Mira’s physical abuse subsided (perhaps she had not been as drunk as he thought. Or maybe his actions had nothing to do with it.). However in exchange for the reprieve from his mother, she began leaving the house more often. Leaving him with no food for longer periods of time. This meant that he had to find a way to either make money on his own, or start stealing. Thankfully in his past life, he had experience with living as his own person at a young age, even if he had had more support systems that he did now, with Thomas Stevens and teachers and his pastor. However, even without those supports Alex managed to get a job a the butcher shop underneath their apartment, Manning the register. (Years later, he found that the smell of raw meat would trigger memories of his mother’s beatings. He let John handle any meat dinners after that.) It was stressful managing both that school and keeping himself fed, especially for considering he was 11 and still severely underweight, which made him near constantly exhausted. Still he managed as best he could.   
~•~  
At twelve years old a hurricane hits the small island he lives on. He was with Raquel and Esmeralda when the storm hit. He hadn’t really been aware of the incoming storm, though he logically should have seen the signs. School had been closed for a few days due to the weather (Alex later realized they must have gotten a hurricane warning. He had nothing to recive it on.) and he needed to escape his house. Which meant trekking through the pouring rain, the winds having not been to bad at that point. However sometime during the night that he stayed, talking of ghost stories with the two girls (who had admitted to being reincarnated nuns who had been killed due to their love for each other, which made him feel better about being friend with the girls. They even had something to bond over) the winds had picked up and the rain was coming down hard. 

The severity of the storm only really hit him, when the twins dad ushered them upstairs, to the second story of the house, worry evident on his face. Alex’s gut turned, and he looked out of the window, hoping to see nothing more than a loud storm. He was met with the all too familiar sight of flooding in the streets, people who couldn’t evacuate or who had no homes were crying and screaming, stuck in the streets with no where to go as the winds roarded and increased, the rains pouring harder and harder. 

The next two days. Alex was stuck in a haze, stuck between the past and present, something he had thought he’d left behind over the past two years. (His past and present and melded and merged fast enough as his mind stuggled to survive.) However something about experiencing the hurricane again, threw him back like few things did (anything that sounded like a gunshot for an example.) 

The house the Caste family lives in was quickly flooded, the storm being much stronger and coming in much quicker than expected. Leaving most on the island unprepared for the devistation. The five of them were forced onto the roof, the only escape from the water. The could only shiver and cry, watching as the water rushed by, continuing to rise. Every once in a while corpses could be seen being dragged along by the current. 

At some point Raquel slipped down the roof, being pulled into the harsh current and disappearing. If they thought they had cried before, they were sobbing when she was swept away. 

At some point Alex wondered what had happened to his mother. 

He quickly realized he didn’t care. He didn’t have the energy to. 

When the storm was over, the winds calmed enough that they could relax their tense bodies and the rains down to no more than a soft shower, the four of them waited for any sort of rescue. 

They had to wait multiple hours before a team reached them. 

They had to wait longer for any sort of care.

Not three days later, Raquel’s body was found. Esmeralda was inconsolable. The Caste’s left the island soon after. 

They never found his mother’s body. 

Without a guardian he was forced into foster care. It wasn’t terrible, but any freedom he had had, even at the cost of living with Mira, was taken away, leaving him trapped in a seemingly regular family that was too unequipped to handle even 12 years of Alejandro’s trauma, never mind the chaos of Alexander’s memories. 

So Alex separated himself from the family and doubled down on his work, knowing that he’d be unable to move the island to giving him money, which meant to had to work his way to America, desperate to escape the island again, this time not so much because it was stifling much as he longed to start anew. 

At some point over the five or so years he stayed with the family, they had gotten a clunky computer with their spare money and Alex was suddenly introduced to a whole new world of the internet and social media. He had access to a faster way to type and get information. This led to a search of himself, his friends and family and what happened to America. This led to him sobbing in the small closet that the computer bull was stored in, hunched over the keyboard as he realized how long his Eliza had lived without him, how much longer his contemporaries survived, how much they did. He read about his kids and what they did, read about historians speculating about his age, read about the civil war and emancipation. It left a tight feeling in his chest, a guilt for all he could have done and all that he left behind with his foolish decision to duel Burr.  
~•~  
As soon as he was able, he began applying to colleges. He couldn’t apply to many with the application costs alone, however with the funds he had stocked up, he managed to apply to three. His first reaction was King's college again, but he found no mention of it. However with a bit of research, he found that it had been renamed to Columbia, and so he applied there, as well as Princeton, which was at least partially spite due to their rejection of him 200 years ago. His last application was to the university of New York, which he really had no connection with, but he has enough to apply to. 

A few months later, he received acceptance letters to all three schools, getting a full scholarship for Columbia and New York. He chose to go to Columbia for both the education quality as well as the nostalgia.   
~•~  
When he arrived in New York for the second time in his lifetimes, he was stuck with just how much bigger the city was. He had been expecting different, he had to, but he wasn’t expecting the overwhelming amount of people. The height of the building, even with the images he had seen on google still overwhelmed him. It felt like when he had first remembered his past life, being suddenly struck with how amazing the new technology was and how much the world had changed. The feeling of being stuck between times followed him constantly, always in the back of his mind, but as he stepped out of the airport (airplanes might have been one of the most terrifying inventions) the feeling of not belonging to this time period suddenly overwhelmed him. His breath caught, and he had to force himself to move forwards, into the mass of people and cars and buildings. As much as he moved through and with the throng of people who walked the streets, as much as he was a part of their mass, he felt so distant. He was aware of the fact that there were other reincarnates, many who probably felt similarly to him, but there was no one physically there to reassure him of that, that he wasn’t alone, thus leaving his brain to metaphorically roam free.   
~•~  
His arrival at Columbia was incredibly odd to say the least. He had spent the past week since he had gotten off the plane in a shitty hotel, having been saving money from his accounting job at the island's trading port, since he got his acceptance letter. Arriving on campus, he was struck with how familiar everything was, yet how much had changed. The buildings remained familiar, the arch or the windows, a style that had fallen out of fashion in the late 1800’s and the brickwork all felt like he had just stepped back to the 1700’s. However the expansive lawn, green and impeccably trimmed, and the amount of buildings, the expanded of the space many times larger than when he had been taught there. The difference in the school had been expected though, even if it was odd to see in person. No, his arrival was odd due to his run in with a strange gangly looking student running into him, shouting ‘sorry!’, handing him a stick of gum, seemingly as an apology and continuing to run. Next was a broad man handing him a muffin from the inside of a coffee shop, patting his shoulder as Alex sipped on his coffee confused. What was with people and giving him things. 

When he got up to the front desk to ask for his dorm room (he wasn’t willing to spend that much money for an apartment. He had looked at even some of the cheapest apartments, and even those were too much for his broke ass. Besides, first years had to stay on campus.) he was met with the broad shouldered black man with the bandana who had given him the muffin earlier. 

“Oh hey, scrawny kid. I take it you’re here for your dorm number and key?” He was leaning on the desk, smiling comfortably. Something about him felt incredibly familiar. 

“Uh, yeah.” Alex paused for a moment, before sticking out his hand out in greeting “Alejandro Hernandez” 

“Hector Mambwe.” The man smiled, taking his hand in a firm handshake. “You can just call me Herc though. Nice to meet you man. You’re in room number… oh, nice, room number 334. A friend of mine will be your roommate.” 

While talking with the man- Herc, something clicked in Alex’s mind. It seemed improbable, the likelihood of what could be happening, but Alex had to try, 

“Hey Herc, weird question, are you a reincarnate?” He felt the nervous hope burning in his stomach, twisting with the anxiety into a tight little ball that made him want to fidget his hands. He tried to fight the urge, as he tended to pick at his cuticles when he fidgeted, often until they bled, and that never ended well. 

Herc looked at Alex, examining for something, though it was unclear what. He took a moment to reply.

“Yeah man, did I know you?” The hope burned a little brighter. 

“Hercules?” He said it no louder than a whisper, fearing that he had misjudged, miscalculated what he was seeing. However something seemed to slight in Herc’s eyes, some idea or connection.

“Alexander?” He said it louder than Alex had, but it was still quiet. 

The two stood one either side of the desk, eyes wide as they looked each other up and down, new recognition in their eyes before Alex practically hopped the desk separating them to hug Hercules. It was lucky there was no one else in the room as they hugged like their life depended on it. 

When they backed off, tears running down both of their faces, Alex sat down onto the top of the desk, rubbing at his face to be rid of the tears. 

“Holy shit Herc.” Alex hiccuped, laughing wetly. “God I really didn’t think I’d see you again.” 

“Shit, same.” Hercules laughed, falling backwards into the chair that was meant for the desk. “I mean, what are the chances.”

“Honestly. I mean there are over a billion people in the world now.” 

“Yeah” they paused for a moment, taking each other in again, before Herc again had that ‘I’ve just recalled something’ look in his eyes. “ shit Alex we gotta go to your dorm.” 

“What? Why?” 

“It’s an surprise, but come one” Herc reaches out a hand quickly, probably looking to grab Alex’s had or something of the like, but Alex’s body worked faster than his mind and he flinched back. Herc gave him an odd look of something like concern and didn’t reach for his hand again, just misguided for him to follow. 

“What about the desk?” Alex asked as he tried to keep up with Hercules' much longer stride as they walked to Alex’s dorm. 

“Eh, I was due for a break.” Herc shrugged, adjusting his bandanna. “Kyle can pick up my slack. I’ve been doing the same for him for the past three hours.” 

The stopped in front of room 334, Herc knocking out the door before inserting the key. He then promptly flung the door open, the ensuing think of it hitting the wall making Alex jump a bit. 

“John, get the fuck over here!” He shouted, walking into the room, Alex strolling behind curiously. 

It was the tall lanky guy who had run into Alex earlier. strolling down the hall leisurely, his posture somehow impeccable while also being very chill. He had curly brown hair,down to his shoulders in a half up half down look. His skin was tan and he was toned, looking as though he worked out often. His ears were pierced, and peeking out from his tank top, on his right shoulder was what appeared to be a tattoo of some kind. 

“Hey Herc, what up?” He asked, raising his hand in greeting. 

“So, I just met your roommate today,” he moved to the side so John could see Alex. He waved at his roommate, a bit confused. 

“Hey,” John said, reaching out a hand, “ I’m John Casendera.” Alex shook his hand.

“Alejandro Hernandez.” 

“I figure you two might figure this out on your own, but I’m impatient. John, you and Alex are both reincarnates. You knew each other.” 

“Okay? I knew a lot of people.” John isn’t getting it. Alex thinks he might be.

“I knew him too.” 

“Okay, that narrows it down a little bit?” 

“Oh my god. Alex, do you know or do I have to say it?” 

“Were you an aide-de camp for General Washington?” It was the easiest way to confirm his suspicions without asking his death date, which was probably considered rude. John looked like he was coming to some conclusions.

“I was… Alexander?” It was a tentative guess, and John sounded almost afraid. 

“Jack…” he breathed it like a sigh, smiling at the man in front of him, before rushing into his arms for a hug. He was crying and laughing, and John was crying and laughing and it had been too many years. “God Jack I’ve missed you so.” Alex cried, squeezing his waist. 

John was leaning his forehead on Alex’s head, laughing softly as tears dropped down his nose. “God Alexander. I- it’s- I have so much to say to you. So much I never said to you.” 

“I as well my dear,” he laughed, changing where his hands were placed from around John's waist, to around his neck. “We lost so much time. Though part of that was definitely your near suicidal recklessness, you asshole.” He lifted his head from John's chest to press a chaste kiss to his lips. 

“There’s only so many times I can say sorry, love.” He whispered in Alex’s ear. They leaned against each other for a few more moments, the dorm quiet. 

The moment was broken when Herc started taking. 

“Gayyyy” he whispered jokingly, making Alex and John stumble apart, both of their faces bright red, though John's blush was more visible than Alex’s. “Also, it’s not the 1700’s anymore. You don’t have to speak like it.” 

“Shut up Herc.” Alex grumbled, kicking the floor, embarrassed. 

“Yeah Herc.” John said, glaring at the man. 

“For real though, I’m glad we all found each other.” Herc said softly. “ I know me and John never really knew each other well before, but…” 

“Yeah.” 

“So have either of you met anyone else?” Alex was kind of hopeful, but not too much. Meeting two people from his past life was already more that he had expected. 

“Other than hearing news the Lafayette and Washington have been reincarnated? I haven’t met anyone.” John told him, ‘subtly’ grabbing his hand. 

“Oh I didn’t hear about Lafayette being back.” 

“Yeah, it’s a pretty recent thing. I think they're coming to America too.” 

“They?” 

“That’s what they prefer I’ve heard.”

“Huh. Good for them.” 

The three chatted for another hour, catching up and laughing, talking about everything from history, to politics, to how weird Alex being on the currency was. Eventually Herc had to go back to help out on the desk, hmsaying how Kyle had ‘probably learnt his lesson’. This led to Alex and John alone. They sat quietly talking about the past, what had happened after John died, as well as their 6 years together before that. It was often somber, speaking of things lost, but having John back, being able to touch and speak to and feel him again felt so nice. 

“I really did miss you.” Alex told John at one point as the man sat behind him on their bed, braiding Alex’s hair. “When you died, I- I felt like I lost a part of myself. You were such an integral part of my life. I often spend nights wondering what might have happened to us had you survived. Had I survived.” 

“I would say it does no good to dwell on our death, but I must admit I found myself wondering the same thing many a time at night after remembering.” He let go of Alex’s fair, having tied it up. Alex leaned back when he felt that, pressing into Laurens’ warm chest. 

Alex was quiet for a moment thinking about what to say next. “I think we both need to forget our deaths and look to our future. I know it won’t happen, but we can try.” 

“We can.” A pause. “ I love you Alexander. 

After everything that had happened, in this life and the last, he had felt a desolate sort of despair up until the past few months, since that acceptance letter. Maybe things were finally looking up. 

“I love you too dear.”

**Author's Note:**

> Weird thing, historical John is so hard to place into modern times and still keep him similar to how he was. Also, there are way better reincarnation au’s. Go read much abides or how lucky we are to be alive right now. Those are both better written.


End file.
